


Man stuff

by Arienek, ClioSelene



Category: One Piece
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arienek/pseuds/Arienek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClioSelene/pseuds/ClioSelene
Summary: A small part of the lifetime journey of Law and Corazon. About some things that man needs, about black feathers and about what to do to never forget.  Translation of my fanfic by ClioSelene.





	Man stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClioSelene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClioSelene/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Męskie sprawy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713180) by [Arienek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arienek/pseuds/Arienek). 

**MAN STUFF**

"You'll stay here and wait for me. I'll certainly be back by morning. Don't think you can go outside! I'm going to lock all doors and take the key with me!"

Law scowled at Corazon, while the man was making him a bed in the empty bughouse on the outskirts. The boy had long since stopped saying he would run away the moment his companion looked away, and Cora-san had long since stopped tying Law for the night. Besides, he had once burnt half of the rope in the course of a cigarette accident. Still, it would be silly on Law's part to admit aloud that he no longer considered escaping from his kidnapper. Let that dumb lunatic run around and take pains in locking the doors. Mad idiot! The sulking teenager turned his back at his companion in the ostentatious manner. Corazon might as well go and fall in the first hole in the road! Maybe he would even break his neck! He didn't deserve any better for being such a meanie. He's going out?! He's leaving Law alone?! The boy's pout quivered slightly. Let that pathetic nutcase go and never come back. Finally, Law will have some peace without his stupid grin, stinking cigarettes and threadbare feather cloak.

He's taking the cloak with him!

What a wretch!

Donquixote Rosinante thoroughly dusted off the blankets he'd confiscated in the last village and made a comfy bedding for his companion. He glanced at Law; the boy's tiny figure, crouched by the wall, was radiating immense resentment. Corazon hid his honest smile in the black feathers. Even if he wanted, he couldn't lock his prisoner; there was not a single solid door in the rundown building. Still, the appearances should be kept.

"I'm going to lock all the doors and take the key with me."

He beat the bedding flat for the last time and put the encouraging, cozy pile down. Just this once, he couldn't leave the boy the feather cloak; it would require quite an effort to have Law forgive him such a callousness. In the household he'd taken the blankets from, he'd left enough money for the owners to buy not only the lost covers but also some silky linen, yet he wasn't going to urge the boy to appreciate the warm bedding. He was completely disarmed by the boy's attachment to that cursed black feather cloak, even though the twelve-year-old made his best to conceal it, and he never forgot to wrap it around the boy whenever he had to leave him alone. This time, however, he had some plans and needed the cloak for himself. He sighed with a concern; he was already feeling guilty to abandon his little companion for the whole night. Nevertheless, experience - and Admiral Sengoku's regular reminding - had taught him that a man needed to tend to his needs so that nothing hindered his thoughts and actions in the critical situation. Corazon suspected that his journey with Law and its inevitable consequences would bring him many critical moments. He also knew that he could tend to his needs in this particular town.

He terribly needed to do this now.

He curved his lips and glanced at the boy again; Trafalgar Law was still emanating the resentment and, which was much worse for Rosinante's soft heart, a teary objection. The man tore his eyes off the offended child and straightened his back, adjusting the cloak on his shoulder. He knew he had to go.

The next occasion might never come.

#

Swine! Cheat! Monster! He was leaving just like that, never bothering to wrap Law in the feathers! The boy was still turned away from his carer, but, out of the corner of his eyes, he could perfectly see the man preparing to leave and adjusting the cloak. What a pathetic paranoia! Trafalgar Law no longer feared anything; he'd experienced both paradise and hell, been betrayed and seen such crimes that other kids in the Donquixote Family would never imagine. Law had lost everything he'd once cared about, had to observe the henchmen of the World Government destroy his homeland piece by piece to bury the embarrassing secrets of the rulers. The death hadn't forgotten the last child of the Amber Lead miners; it'd been counting Law's days and let him accept her. The boy had long since forsaken the futile defiance. He had neither fears no dreams, and he'd just calmly planned and achieved his aims, while he was still alive. He'd chosen a pirate family, realised his plan, indifferently accepted the top officers as well as the missions from Doflamingo. Just a few months ago, Law had been a perfectly organised twelve-year-old specialist of a living hell, calmly looking out for the death and killing time with killing. And then?! He had come, that freak with his painted face, making a fuss and dragging Law in this insane paranoia, instead of dying with the knife between his ribs! And now Law had to stay in some damn hovel in yet another nameless town, feeling painfully, terribly, inexcusably unwrapped! Cursed Corazon, he should get stuffed with his burnt feathers!

It was strange to feel again.

Damn Cora-san.

Rosinante tapped the bedding encouragingly.

"Have some nice sleep, no-one will bother you here. You'll see I'll be back before you wake up," he promised earnestly. His heart clenched upon seeing the hunched boy walk from his corner, his head down and his gaze fixed on the floor. It'd been only recently that Law honoured Corazon with relatively cultural greeting, and it already hurt so much when he huffed and stopped talking. Unfortunately, at present Corazon felt like huffing himself. He was such an egoistic swine! And here he'd thought he could be a better example than Doffy! He hunched under the cloak. Maybe one day he would be able to explain this. Or maybe he should do it as soon as tomorrow. After all, there were worse, more inexcusable lies dividing them. This small extravagance? They were both men. Law would understand. And neither of them was a pirate.

About that, they would never talk.

Corazon lit a cigarette, casting the boy hesitating looks. It was time to go. How bad did it look? Would Law let him leave without a single word? It was bad. Very bad.

Trafalgar D. Water Law sat down on the blanket nest in a dignified manner. He put his chin up, folded his arms and pulled his feet under. He lasted for a whole minute.

"Look at yourself, you insane grod! Your collar is burning!"

"AAAAAAA!"

Law was staring in satisfaction at Corazon leaping up and trying to extinguish fire on the black feathers, then blowing at the burnt fingers. What a moron.

"Now, get out!" He waved his hand in annoyance, as if Corazon were an irritating mosquito. Let him go, that irritating, eversmiling clyde.

_But come back soon._

#

And he even waved him goodbye! Happy, Corazon was inhaling the cigarette smoke. Hands in his pockets, he was walking quickly as he used to.

Everything would be fine.

#

Everything was bad. The blankets were too thick. And too thin. And too soft. And too coarse. And they were altogether useless. Law had been trying to fall asleep for hours, mantle himself nicely and nestle himself comfortably, but the bedding was hopeless. Terrible, stupid rags! Stupid, bleak house! Stupid, idiotic Corazon! Angry and disconcerted, Law jumped up to his feet and threw the blankets away. Stupid Corazon wasn't coming back. Law should have kept eye on him! That quad would certainly lose his way! Or fall into a gutter and drown! Or put a tavern on fire, and the townspeople would lynch him! What a lemon! Trafalgar Law shook his head, enraged. Corazon's indolence exceeded everything. He should follow that moron and save him from troubles. What had Law done to be punished with such a mad freak? Yet, someone had to be a responsible and reasonable here. And that someone surely wasn't Cora-san. It was high time to put his excesses short. And kick his ass for leaving Law alone for so long. The boy wiped his nose, adjusted his hat and pulled his shirt down. He would show Corazon for those hopeless blankets.

#

"Your brother?" The wrinkled old man scratched his bald head. "Ah, there was some odd duck walking by an hour ago. Well, less than that."

Law scowled at him. He didn't feel like discussing about the proper way of assessing the time. The fact was that Corazon had left him alone for much too long. Maybe he had left just an hour ago. What was more important, where had he gone to?!"

"Tall, wearing a make-up and a black feather cloak," he repeated the description. "Did you see him? Where did he go?"

The old man rocked on his chair. He was sitting in front of the tavern as if he'd grown into the ground, and thus Law had chosen him as someone who had the best chance to observe the rare night passers. The boy had thought he would find Corazon in the bar or in the centre of some row accented by burning feathers. The town was, however, sleeping quietly, the regular customers of the tavern were dozing off on the tables, and Donquixote Rosinante was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry you lost him, son. I saw such a fellow, why shouldn't I see him, he was just walking straight. But maybe you'd stay with me to wait for him to come back? You shouldn't look for him in the back streets."

Law snorted, upset. "Where did he go?"

The old man shook his balding head and lowered his voice. "You shouldn't go there, son. You still have time for such things."

The boy pulled the hat over his ears, somewhat anxious. Where had that butterfingered lunatic gone?! Instead of having a one in the tavern, like a normal guy, he went to some back streets. Where had he gone?! Ah! Law suddenly remembered why they had come to this town, and the previous ones, and the ones that were yet to come. Mad Corazon and his hopeless obsession! He'd probably heard about some healer or local witch and gone to ask them about the cure for the Amber Lead Syndrome. He would be smacked around and create a panic again!

Or he would burn the witch's broomstick.

Law didn't want to remember or even thought about those countless medical offices they'd visited in the last months with Corazon. He didn't feel like recollecting the insults, terror and loathing that people reacted with, upon seeing the characteristic white spots on his skin. Trafalgar Law hadn't expected anything else of those morons. Their filthy curses and stinking fear couldn't surprise him.

But they hurt.

He'd kept driving away the futile rows along with the shocked faces of the doctors and nurses from his mind. Yet, he remembered some of those visits perfectly well. Like that hospital where Corazon had lost it for the first time. The doctor had got under his desk, screamed for help and begged the head nurse to immediately perform an euthanasia on that 'rotten source of plague' that had been trickily brought into his office. Law'd felt like touching him, only to make that cowardly excuse for a doctor have nightmares for the rest of his life. And Cora-san had... become angry.

That hospital hadn't burned by accident.

If now Corazon had gone to another doc, then Law had better personally see that nothing happened. Or have a good look. The boy remembered when they'd left that town; Cora-san upset and silent, though smiling a bit, and Law wrapped with the black feathers, staring from his carer's shoulders at the exclusive clinic burning behind them.

Such memories were worth recollecting.

He stamped his foot to call to order both himself and the old man.

"I want to know where he went. Now!" he urged.

The man, more and more troubled, patted his bald head. "He turned there, behind the storehouse, so there's just one place he could head to. Unless he didn't want to drown himself in the river, for only they stay by the river."

"But who lives by the river?!" the boy asked impatiently.

The man lowered his voice even more. "The working girls, who else?"

Trafalgar Law felt somewhat lost for words. Not that he planned to admit it. He cleared his throat. Once, twice, thrice.

"Well, you know. The working girls. The girls who work in the streets," the man repeated. "You know where the children get from, don't you? Ah, you're so young, so maybe you don't know. It's not your stuff yet, son."

The twelve-year-old bit his lips. He had delivered his sister personally by himself... well, maybe with a little assistance of his father. He knew everything about those matters. He just couldn't believe his ears.

"So that... I mean, my brother... He went to...?"

"A brothel," the old man confirmed flatly. "He sure did."

#

Law pulled his hat so low that he could barely see the road before him. The old man had tried to persuade him into staying there and waiting for his brother instead of wandering around such places, but they boy hadn't budged. Stay there and wait for Corazon to come back?! Hopeless.

Suddenly everything was hopeless again.

Hopeless town with a brothel by the river. Hopeless Corazon and his hopeless detour. He'd left Law to go to whores! Like an average guy!

Pathetic.

Only that were his word worth, promises that he would never stop looking for Law's cure? That he would look for it until he found it, and never give up? At the first opportunity, he'd left Law and gone to have fun in some cheap, country shack. It was what he'd thought about when they'd travelled here?! He'd dressed himself up in the cloak and gone to whores! He'd probably have them spread their legs on those blasted feathers!

Trafalgar D. Water Law promised himself to never again touch the pathetic Corazon's scruffy cloak.

He finally reached his destination; that alleged brothel wasn't very impressing. It looked like all houses in its vicinity; a sleepwalking hen crossed the yard, and the fat cat was prowling under the bushes. Law circled the house twice; he could see no-one, and all windows were curtained from the inside. How did one enter a brothel?

"It would be polite to knock."

He jumped up, angry with himself; he shouldn't have lowered his guard. He looked up; a girl of his age was sitting on a windowsill. Her brown hair was thick and curly, pinned up. She was dangling her legs; her toenails were painted green, and every of them had a glittering stone glued on it. She was observing Law with an indifferent expression.

"You should go to the front door and knock," she instructed dryly. "If anyone is free, she will fetch you. But you pay in advance, so you better prepare your hidden stocks, for I can see you have empty pockets."

Law sulked at once. He didn't need any instruction for use of the brothel, not from such a brat. What was she doing here, anyway? Did those working girls bring up children in their workplace? Now that was funny. It was almost like in the Doflamingo Family. Well, beating about the bush wouldn't do.

"I'm looking for my brother," he announced archly. "He came here some hour ago."

The girl scratched her nose, unmoved. She shrugged.

"Aunt Camellia has a customer, but he came early in the evening and isn't leaving anywhere soon. He even paid for a breakfast. Aunt Rose and Aunt Azalea are sleeping. Well, some loony did come here an hour ago, but he went directly to Aunt Wisteria." She gave Law a closer look. "You don't look like his brother."

"So what?" Now it was Law who shrugged. Aunt Wisteria?! Pathetic. Dirty shack with its rotten flowers. That was what Corazon needed?! Couldn't he just say it aloud?! Law wouldn't have resented him. He really knew everything about this stuff. It didn't matter at all.

It was hypocrisy that mattered.

Why did Corazon pretend to be an angel of mercy and keep talking about searching for a miraculous cure?! He kept confusing Law and lying unashamedly to him, to his suspicious snailphone contacts and to everyone else, and yet he was just like any pirate. After all, his name was Donquixote. Apparently, it obliged to something. Law was fed up with false promises and cheating. He would go there and tell that two-faced bastard he was going back to his brother, who, at least, always admitted he was a monster and would remain one. Of course, having a quick sex with the whores was a ridiculous crime compared to Doflamingo's ways to amuse himself that used to create the ripples of anxiety even on the boy's stony heart. And yet, it was Doflamingo that Law had chosen for his captain, for the man was implicitly honest with the members of his family. He showed his colours without a single shadow of hypocrisy. And Corazon? During those last months of their journey, Law had discovered many secrets that his carer didn't plan to explain to him. And? He had accepted those lies and prevarications, and that stupid mask with that stupid smile because he'd believed that at least Corazon's relentless attachment is real.

Sure it was now.

"Take me there," he demanded. He didn't expect the girl to accede, but he was ready to get inside even by force and spit Corazon in his filthy grin. Much to his surprise, she jumped down from the windowsill.

"We can't disturb them, for the whole work will go to waste," she muttered. "But it won't hurt anyone if we just have a look. The spare bedroom will be good for our purpose." She waved at Law. "Come, if you want to see it so badly. You're really his brother? You don't look alike at all."

He didn't bother to answer; he followed the girl, first to the stuffy corridor, and then they climbed the creaking, narrow stairs all the way to the attic. Just like her, Law clung to the wall and tried to walk noiselessly. Finally, they slipped into some room behind the tall, embroidered folding screen. The girl guided Law to the mat by the screen, and they comfortably fit there together. The girl moved the curtain to the side, just a bit but it was enough for them to have a good view on the next room. Distractedly, Law wondered how often that kid used to peep at her supposed aunt at work. Soon, however, he forgot all that when he realised what he was seeing.

A man?!

Corazon was visiting a guy here?! What a laugh! That was that Aunt Hortensia, or what was her name?! In the middle of the room, a young man was standing, a blonde with a pleasant face and a nicely sculpted body. He was undressed from waist up, had slender yet firm arms and thick, curly hair. He wore only white trousers and was simply standing without a move. So it was such pretty sissies that Donquixote Rosinante liked?! Was it really something to hide from Law?! Maybe it wasn't as common and obvious as sex with the girls, but until now the boy hadn't considered his companion a hypocrite who was ashamed and hide such a meaningless nonsense. And yet! He was just like anyone else.

Law was about to die in one month - and Corazon left him alone to bang man's asses in a rotten hole like this.

The boy lowered his head. This very moment, he hated Rosinante with all his might. The man had first made Law feel that someone's involvement mattered again... that something, anything mattered again, and then he appeared to be just an ordinary man. Pathetic? _Normal._ Corazon was just a normal guy. Law had no right to resent him for that. No, what hurt him was a lie, hypocrisy that replaced the trust he'd promised the boy. The details weren't important. Nor was that pretty boy important. What a dumb he was, just standing like that in front of the mirror.

The mirror?

It was only now that Law noticed the large mirror standing by the wall and slightly tilted so that it fitted in the low room; it had to have over two metres. The blonde was standing in front of that mirror and staring at his own reflection as if he hadn't seen his own face before. A weirdo, Law decided. And then he saw a pale red smudge on the young man's cheek. The man probably noticed it to, for he reached to the chest of drawers where the bowl of water and a sponge were placed. The man rubbed his face, wiping the stain; finally, he put the sponge in the bowl but kept rubbing his face with his fingers as if he wanted to wipe all, even those slightest stains. He must have cleansed a lot, for the water in the bowl was coloured scarlett and blue.

And Law finally realised what - who - he was looking at.

Corazon?!

It couldn't be anyone else. On the chair, the hood with heart-shaped tails and the heart-patterned shirt were folded neatly. Now that the boy had a closer look, he recognised those skinny legs in the white trousers and a lock of golden hair always escaping from under the red hood. The scarlett lines of the creepy grin and dark tears from under the right eye were gone. Law was staring at Corazon's face as greedily as the man himself was staring at his reflection. Cora-san... Corazon? Rosinante? He looked... well, very normal. Like any handsome blonde with a firm jaw. His expression was serious, and maybe it was what offended Law the most. It was out of place. Forget the make-up. Where was a smile? The boy nearly got from under the folding screen before he was rewarded. Finally, Corazon smiled at his reflection. Like a lantern, that serene, slightly mocking grin seemed to brighten up the whole room.

Law felt better at once.

He moved back a bit, so that he could still see the place. He looked around. Corazon hadn't come here to admire his reflection in the mirror, had he? What was that strange ritual? You couldn’t go to bed with a girl when with a make-up? But there was no bed here anyway. There were mats and a long, low bench with numerous bowls filled with colourful liquids. And next to the bench, on a big pillow, a woman was sitting; she had thick, black hair and a flower tucked behind her ear.

And she was fingering Corazon's cloak.

Law sulked again. He would never, ever, touch that dirty, stinky...

Oh?

He felt speechless again upon seeing that the women was, sure, rumpling the feather cloak, but there was a needle with a black strand in her hand, and a pile of loose black feathers on the edge of the bench. She was sewing them to the cloak ruined by numerous fires. She would rip off the burnt feathers and impregnate those she'd already sewn, using a brush with some grease. The sharp eyes of the twelve-year-old surgeon quickly noticed that the landlady had nails painted vanilla white, with an amber pellet decorating every of them. Lost in sewing, she would only occasionally raise her gaze to stare at her guest. Her smile was filled with affection and understanding.

"It's good to look yourself in the eye from time to time, isn't it?" She adjusted the flower in her hair. "The masks tend to grow too deep."

#

Corazon was looking the Navy officer Donquixote Rosinante in the eye. He couldn't remember the last time he had such an occasion, which was the best signal that he should do it again. In the last months, since he'd taken a kicking teenager onto his back and set out for a crazy journey for life, he'd felt more himself than the previous fourteen years. Yet, he still needed to wipe away the pirate flag from his face and look himself in the eye every now and then. That was true, the masks tended to grow too deep. Rosinante didn't fear he would forget who he was, or that he'd lost himself between the insane world of his world and the strained reality outside it. He felt too well in his own skin, with make-up or without it, in uniform or the feather cloak. He had something that Doffy could never find after they'd left the illusive paradise of Mariejois.

Maybe it was just a soul.

Maybe Doffy had lost his own between the villagers hurling stones and the headless corpse of their father. Maybe Rosinante shouldn't blame him for that, and actually he didn't. He just knew him too well and understood him too well so that he couldn’t give up and let the devil spread his wings. He painted a clown smile on his face, hid under the black feathers of Corazon, lied and betrayed only to keep down, a bit, the monster appetite roused behind Doflamingo's sunglasses. So that the fallen angels remained amongst the fallen ones and didn't hurt people. He remembered who he was and which way he'd chosen; the face he saw in the mirror didn't decide of anything. He'd long since accepted the change of fate that aroused a devil in Doffy. He proved he could wear the faces just like the shirts - as fitted the situation and the occasion - and never lose himself. It was only, from time to time, he wanted to give Rosinante a direct message, like those he kept sending Sengoku. That the mission was still on.

That everything was all right.

Recently, everything was... strange. All right? No, not all right. The doctors weren't all right, the hospitals were cruel, the people were evil, and the roads were bad. And yet, that trip from one disappointment to another, with a twelve-year-old on his back and the raging demon behind his back, all that had more sense for Corazon than his effort of many previous years. That desperate hope to save a single kid - maybe completely futile - could surely do less good than the reports sent to Sengoku that made Tsuru save the whole islands and armadas. But Donquixote Rosinante was a free man and had to make his own decisions. He would pay for them one day. He remembered - and would never forget - the two lost boys that no-one in the world hadn't cared to help, even though stretching a hand would have been enough.

Doflamingo decided once and for all to punish for that.

Rosinante decided once and for all to change that.

It was now that he finally felt he was changing something. He was doing something that he would pay for in due time. He stared in the mirror for the last time. With a bright smile reaching the dark corners and the folding screen, he bid farewell to his reflection. It was good to be alive - still, yet, some more. Maybe he would be able to make Law believe that, too.

Wisteria put the repaired cloak on the chest of drawers with reverence. She sat down on the mat and showed her guest the spot next to her. He moved away from the mirror and joined her; for a moment, his tender smile was directed only at her. She sighed.

"You're a fine lad." She reluctantly reached for the bowl with a scarlet henna. "Are you sure you need it?"

"It must be exactly as it was before," he said firmly. "Use the strongest paint you have."

"I know, I know." The man didn't even wince when the first drop touched his face, but Wisteria did. "You realise that only the most important truths should be written in such a strong ink," she reminded in a reproaching manner.

He gave her another cheeky smile, this time with a scarlet stain on it.

"I'll prove it that my truth can't be painted over with any paint. I'll make it live much longer than I."

Without further protest, she painted a mad, bloody grin over the sweet smile. First a corner of the lips, then the cheek, and then the mouth.

"In any case, you're a fine lad," she said again. "Are you sure you don't need any other service? I can wake up my little sister. She rarely gets such a nice sample. I'm sure you'll be able to persuade her into giving you a huge discount. Even with that ghost mask of yours."

He shook his head slightly so that he didn't smear the henna.

"Someone is waiting for me. I’ve left him alone for too long already." He chucked under his breath. "I must be a good boy, for he's surely going to ask what I were doing. I just can't blush in front of him!" The half of the face was grinning in a grimace of a demon, and the other half was beaming with a sparkling, happy laugh. "When I blush..." He glanced at the landlady. "When I blush I look like a crazy idiot. I must save my face."

She said nothing, only kept painting. She hid the crazy idiot under the mask of a grinning demon. Would she remember him? She probably would.

He hoped someone would remember him.

#

Law was thinking of the paints and the feathers. He felt terribly sleepy. He would somehow bear under those blankets until the morning. It was high time he left this place. In silence, he nudged his guide and pointed at the door. They went down, unseen by anyone. The girl saw the guest to the yard. He nodded shortly and left, never looking back.

"Don't tell him I was here", he said over his shoulder. "Don't say anything."

He thought she wouldn't answer. But she did. Sharp and to the point.

"Okay."

He stopped again. Because she answered.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated; he felt she didn't want to say the truth, but he was still going to remember. After all, he didn't brag about his 'D' either.

"Ika," she finally said.

He nodded.

"I'm Trafalgar Law," he announced.

"I'll remember." She went silent for a moment. "You don't look like your brother."

He thought of the pink feathers and another, quite different smile.

"The brothers don't need to look alike." He shook his head. "They may be very, very unlike each other."

He left in the night.

#

When Corazon returned to the desolated hovel in the outskirts, he found Law wrapped in the blankets and sleeping soundly. He smiled, but his heart ached again. There was no tell if that bright, witty, wonderful boy had still many calm nights before him. And Law himself must have believed that there were just a few nice, calm naps awaiting him. Donquixote Rosinante wanted to change it so much. He had to change it. Just like long ago he'd known he wouldn't be able to change his crazy wrathful brother, now he knew that he would save Trafalgar Law, or die trying.

The both would be the best.

Now, he needed to beg forgiveness for that night trip. Corazon mustered his brightest smile. It was strange how easy it had been recently.

"Laaaw! Hey, Law! Look! I'm back, just like I promised!" he called ingratiatingly. "You surely didn't even notice I was gone!"

At first, the boy ignored his calls entirely and kept sleeping. Corazon took off the cloak, sat down on the box and put the black feathers on his lap. It looked mobs better than yesterday. The man shook his head contentedly, rubbed at the itchy cheek and tried to wake his companion again.

"Laaaaaw! It's a new day! What are we going to eat for breakfast? Maybe some rice? We have rice or... more rice."

The bundle of blankets moved slowly. Corazon observed the twelve-year-old get out of the covers. Finally, Trafalgar D. Water Law emerged from his bedding and looked at his carer with sleepy eyes. He yawned. He sneezed.

"You're back, Cora-san," ha greeted him shortly. Then he scratched his head. He got up. Then he walked to Corazon and took the feather cloak from his hands in a decisive manner. He wrapped it tightly around himself and went back to his bedding. A moment later, he was sleeping again.

And Donquixote Rosinante, the Navy officer, the Second Corazon of the Doflamingo Family, was staring at him and smiling so wide that the freshly painted cheeks stung.

_I'm Cora-san._

#

_Timeskip..._

#

Bepo stayed down and chattered with Ika. It looked she still lived here, although she hadn't followed in her adoptive aunts' footsteps and could nicely smash the customers' faces if they tried to hit on her. Law left her with his navigator and went straight upstairs. The girl could do much better somewhere else. She should finally free herself from those old bats, live her own life, do anything!

Become a pirate?

Well, now wasn't the right time to think about it. The captain of the Heart Pirates reached the room in the attic. The greetings and the negotiations were short; there was no point in keeping around the bush. The mirror on the wall didn't seem as large as the twelve-years-old boy had seen it. Yet, it could still contain the whole figure of a tall man. Some things in this world were amazingly durable.

But it was worth to strengthen them some extra.

Law stared at his reflection in the mirror. His expression couldn't make any place brighter: ever frowned forehead, sulking eyebrows, distrustful gaze and serious mouth. Using the scalpel of his Devil Fruit, he'd shaved well before coming here, and it wasn't the first time he looked at himself in the mirror, yet he felt very peculiar. It was strange to get undressed from waist up and face himself.

_Who are you? Who am I?_

The woman leaning over the henna bowls still had her fingernails decorated with the amber nubs and the thoughtful gaze in her eyes, but her black, thick hair was grey every here and there. She chose the colour and glanced at her guest askance.

"I use to remind everyone that they use the strongest ink to write down the most important truths. But I think you already know that, and that you've found your truth."

He nodded right away; his reflection backed him, nodding as well. Of course he knew. He turned to the woman and drew his truth on his chest with one finger: unfitting his sullen expression, the only right, and given. A frivolous shape of heart and a broad, crazy smile.

_The most important truth._

"Corazon."

the end


End file.
